


I Don't Feel A Thing For You

by Applefall



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Arguing, Blowjobs, M/M, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applefall/pseuds/Applefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn't how Pete thought the argument would end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Feel A Thing For You

**Author's Note:**

> this was requested by a cool friend of mine on tumblr and I hope it's okay because it's probably very bad lmao
> 
> And yes I know I wrote smut yesterday but sTILL
> 
> Also you can request a fic at centurese.tumblr.com !

Pete almost regrets showing Patrick the lyrics. _Almost_. He takes a certain sort of pride in the way Patrick tenses as he reads and chews on the inside of his cheek.

"So." Patrick says flatly, still staring at the lyrics. When Patrick looks up at him he shrugs and picks lint off of his hoodie. "These lyrics are good. We can use them." He tells Pete, who nods in agreement.

"If you think so." Pete tells him in a calm voice he knows will piss Patrick off. It works, his jaw clenching. "Want to work on it?" He asks, flopping onto the couch and spreading himself across it. Patrick comes over and sits down next to him, prodding his shoulder.

He spreads the sheets across the coffee table and looks around for a pen, returning when he finds one. Red ink. Patrick works quietly for a while before turning to Pete, whose watching him silently.

"How does this sound?" Patrick asks and clears his throat. He sings out what Pete assumes is the chorus, his voice pitching up, up, up to hit notes Pete has rarely heard him reach. " _I don't feel a thing for you_ ," Patrick sings with a sort of pissed off look, not looking Pete in the eye.

Pete swallows and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, Patrick's looking at him with a strange look on his eyes. "That's great." He manages to say and turns back to the sheets.

They continue working on the song, Patrick humming beside him. Pete's aware of their thighs touching, Pete's hardened with muscle and Patrick's thick. Their heads are together like always but Pete can just look at Patrick and tell he's tense, his body on edge.

When the argument starts Pete finds himself standing. It's over which note would be best suited for that part and like always, Patrick is being annoyingly stubborn. He refuses to change it, thinks it sounds better, but Pete wholeheartedly disagrees with him.

"You're an idiot." Patrick shoots at him, crossing his arms. There's a fire in his eyes that makes Pete's hair stand on end, but he continues shouting at him.

"You're a stubborn dick." Pete sneers, narrowing his eyes. Their argument has been reduced to petty insults and Pete hates it but loves it, loves Patrick shouting at him and loves pissing him off because he's messed up like that. Patrick glares and steps forward, raising his fist.

Pete acts on instinct, grabbing his wrist and pulling him against his chest. Patrick squirms, "Let me go, you fucker!" But Pete tightens his grip, digging his nails into his wrist. Patrick moves to squirm again and Pete knocks his hat away and grabs a fistful of his red-blond hair.

The effect is immediate. Patrick gasps and his sleepy blue-green eyes widen. He stills and gives Pete a softer, questioning look. Pete tugs again and watches Patrick's pretty pink lips fall open, his even pinker tongue darting out to wet them. It's fucking _obscene_ and Pete nearly groans.

"Do it." Patrick says, no, commands. "Fucking tell me you don't feel _anything_ for me." Pete tugs his hair again, harder, making him cry out.

"You're fucking stupid." Pete tells him, anger and confusion and need boiling in his stomach. Patrick gives him a smirk when he lets go of his hair. He frames Pete's face and presses his full lips against his, trying to lick into his mouth.

It's not the first time they've kissed, not even the hundredth, but this feels like the most important, because all those other times it was _Pete_ kissing Patrick, Pete shoving his tongue down his throat and laughing with glee when Patrick spluttered in embarrassment.

"You're the stupid one." Patrick hisses against his lips. Pete nips his lip in response and pushes his tongue inside, exploring. Pete pulls away and pushes two fingers into Patrick's mouth, watching as they sink further and further in. Patrick tongues the webbing between them, spit dribbling down his chin. He looks the pure image of sex.

"You like this, huh?" Pete asks, voice harsh. Patrick rolls his eyes but nods, sucking on his fingers just a little faster. When Pete withdraws his fingers Patrick sinks to his knees, fumbling with the button on his jeans. And God, Patrick on his knees is far more gorgeous than Pete had imagined so many times before. His lips were made for sucking cock, he thinks as Patrick unzips him and pushes his jeans down.

"I love it." Patrick says, voice equally rough as he bites Pete's thigh. His mouth moves to the front of boxers, lapping at the head of his cock. Pete groans and Patrick looks up at him, eyes wide. "Pull my hair." He demands and well, Pete wouldn't say no to that. He sinks his fingers in his fine hair, groaning as Patrick returns to his cock.

Finally he lowers his boxers and licks at the head, wrapping his hand around the base. "You're kind of a slut," he says fondly and laps at the head.

"I've known you for forever. Not a slut if it's with my best friend," Pete gasps as Patrick sinks down on his cock. He looks down and watches Patrick's lips, an obscene shade of red, stretched around his cock and spit dribble down his chin. He removean his hand and takes him all the way, the tip bumping the back of his throat. Pete tugs, per his request, and Patrick moans around him. Patrick looks up at him, mouth full of Pete's cock. "God, you're gorgeous."

Patrick abruptly lets Pete slide out of his mouth. Thankfully, he continues jerking him, albeit slowly. "Don't say things like that." Patrick says darkly. "Don't lie to me or yourself." Pete curses and sinks to his knees.

"Shut the fuck up. You don't fucking get it. You are fucking _gorgeous_ , you're perfect. _You_ stop lying to yourself." Pete flicks upon his jeans and pushes them down, Patrick wriggling out of them. "I swear to God, I wouldn't lie about that."

"Do you think I'm getting fat again?" Patrick asks, voice suddenly sadder, softer. "I see everything they say about me. _Fatrick. Disgusting. Gross._ " Pete swears again. He hates those people with a burning passion, every single person that makes a bad remark about his weight pisses him off. He's thankful for the fans that defend Patrick, though.

"If you see everything than you must know that we have so many more fans who tell those people to fuck off."

"But do you think I'm fat?" The question lingers in the air for the while as Pete shoves his boxers down.

 _You're not thin,_ Pete almost says, but it's the whole point of Patrick. He's not supposed to stick thin. He's supposed to be soft and adorable and have that extra layer of fat. Pete can't see or imagine him thin, even though he was getting there in 2013. He remembers looking at the pictures of one photo shoot and staring at how thin he looked. Patrick's cheekbones were clearly visible and his arms were thin. His shirt, faded red, hung off of him. Pete remembers how small he looked, tiny in comparison to the others.

It had almost scared him. "You shouldn't lose weight. You're perfect." Pete says finally. Patrick's eyes seem fiery for a moment and then he slumps.

"Just don't say things like that," Patrick sighs and gasps when Pete wraps a hand around him. "I know they're not true." Pete sighs as well, upset that Patrick can't see it. He jerks Patrick off, digging his free hands nails into his fleshy hip. God, Pete loves the give and fat beneath his fingers more than anything else. When he'd been with Mikeyway, he'd had trouble holding onto him. He had been afraid he would break because of how thin and fragile he looked.

He jerks Patrick tightly, thumbing the head on every stroke. It only takes a minute before Patrick keens, hips rising and fucking into Pete's hand. He comes with a broken wail when Pete bites his shoulder, spurting across his shirt. Pete sucks in a breath at how beautiful he is and strokes him through it, ignoring how hard he is.

When Patrick stops trembling he turns to Pete and kisses him, hands grasping his cock. He lowers himself between his legs and bites his inner thigh, making Pete moan. "Fuck, do something!" Pete groans when Patrick licks at his balls. Patrick hums and suckles the head, tonguing the slit and stroking the base. He goes down again and hums when Pete's fully in his mouth.

Pete can't take it and he tugs Patrick's hair in warning. Patrick seems to get and he moves up, opening his mouth and letting the head of Pete's cock rest on his tongue. The image is so filthy that Pete comes with a shudder and a groan, spilling into Patrick's mouth. Patrick moans in delight and strokes him through it, milking him. When it's clear Pete can't come anymore, he backs off and swallows, licking his lips. "You taste _so_ good." Patrick says, and then, "Want to taste?"

He's confused until Patrick captures his bottom lip and kisses him. The bitter taste is Pete's come and his head spins because he's fucking tasting himself in Patrick's fucking mouth.

They break apart and Patrick collapses in his lap, head on his thigh. "We should argue more often." Patrick snickers and inspects the mark Pete made on his shoulder. Pete nods in agreement. They're quiet for a while until Patrick looks up at him, murmuring, "It was a lie right? You do feel something for me, right?"

"Is that even a question? Jesus Christ, Patrick, of course I do. I've loved you since forever." Pete reassures him. Patrick smiles at that and seems content.

"Glad it wasn't just me. But we're still using those lyrics." Patrick adds with a smirk. Pete shrugs and leans down to kiss him.

"Just so you know, I think you're the most beautiful person ever. I know you don't believe me but its true." Pete says. Patrick looks like he want to argue again and then stops.

"Okay. I trust you. I'll never be confident enough to think that I'm really okay but I can try. For you."

Pete smiles softly and runs a hand through his hair. "Just try for me." He murmurs, leaning over to kiss him once more.


End file.
